


the chaser

by toastyhyun



Category: VIXX
Genre: Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic, he's only mentioned in passing, hongbin really isn't in this at all, kenvi r the stars of the story, same with taekwoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastyhyun/pseuds/toastyhyun
Summary: Wonshik is convinced that Hongbin could be made to love him. He needs Jaehwan's help to make that wish come true.





	

He loves Hongbin. He loves him more than all the stars in the sky and all the drops of water in the ocean. He could count all his lashes and all his pores and all the cracks in his irises and he’d never become bored. Wonshik is completely and irrevocably in love and it completely and _utterly_ blows, because Hongbin doesn’t feel the same at all.

Hongbin is a treasure to behold, something to be put on a pedestal and admired but not to be owned. Nobody that Wonshik knows can remember him ever dating after graduating primary school, though they admit he has had the crush or two that he’d never followed through with.

Wonshik plans to change that.

Hongbin is so smiley, always positive, usually laughing at the jokes Wonshik cracks -- but he still doesn’t think he’s getting anywhere. He doesn’t think he’s any closer to winning his heart, despite a whole _week and a half_ of trying every trick in the book that he could think of off the top of his head (and from what he could find on Google). He’s impatient and wants to speed things up, so he asks around for advice.

Taekwoon has people falling at his feet wherever he steps, so Wonshik demands of him, “How can I get Hongbin to fall in love with me? I need him to be my own, and my own only.”

He gives the younger a long, dark look for a few moments before he exhales, as quiet and soft spoken as always, though hesitation lingers at the end of his breath. He doesn’t say anything, merely turns to the side and scribbles something on a scrap of paper before handing it over, walking away with head bowed and shoulders held tight in by his neck, as if weighed down by something.

Wonshik accepts that Taekwoon is weird, does weird things and operates in weird ways, and simply looks down at the note. There’s a couple numbers and characters written on it in a hurry, and it takes him a couple reads to recognize it as an address. He nods, smiling in satisfaction to himself, and searches the location on his phone to follow its GPS. There’s no business marker on the map, and it’s a little out of the way -- there isn’t much around it besides residential area and fast food places. He figures it must be a gem in the rough.

When he arrives, he’s a little disappointed. The place looks like a hole in the wall, an unprofessional cardboard sign written in Sharpie that reads ‘go around back and up the stairs’ pasted across the front door, which is very clearly boarded up -- whether to keep people out or to keep people in, he’s unsure. Despite the warning bells going off in his head, he trusts Taekwoon enough to make himself walk round and trek up the fire escape.

There’s no writing on the door, no window to take a glance inside and see what he’s getting into. It’s just a dirty old wooden door, clearly worn out and used an awful lot. It makes Wonshik just the slightest bit more nervous, but he’s determined to follow through. His lithe fingers wrap around the doorknob, gold paint mostly already rubbed off to reveal bronze, and he twists it to push as he steps inside.

He’s greeted with something that looks like it’s straight out of Harry Potter. The interior is colder than outside and there’s the faintest smell of earth, of dirt and plants, of pure nature that lingers somewhere in the air. There’s bottles with unidentified liquids littered all over the store, some labeled in English, some in languages Wonshik doesn’t think he’s ever seen before, and some not labeled at all. 

He takes a swivelled glance around the small shop to try and find an employee, and frowns to himself when he doesn’t find one at the counter, clearly set up for purchases. There’s an old, brass terminal set up, not a sign of electricity in sight-- it’s fully mechanical, with buttons like a typewriter and a display built from flipping number cards. It looks to be about a thousand years old, with how beat up it is. There’s a little humidifier on the desk too, looking extremely out of place with how new it looks in comparison to everything else, filled with a yellow-ish liquid in place of what should be water. Wonshik briefly thinks about covering his mouth to shield from whatever its filtering into the air, but he figures he’s already inhaled enough that it must have done whatever damage it could potentially do already.

He steps further inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a resounding, deep noise as it seals closed. He moves to a shelf near the door and tries to squint and peer in to read one of the tags on the small vials, tries to decipher the messy English letters with the little knowledge of the language he has. (Needless to say, he doesn’t gather any insight.)

“Why, hello there!” A loud voice booms from behind him and he jumps about three feet in the air, nearly knocking everything on the lower shelves right off, then reaching down to keep them from falling at the last second. He turns and sees someone who is of a surprisingly young age, looking to be about the same age as him and kind of out of place in such a cluttered, seemingly ancient place. 

“Uh, hi?” he replies after a few moments of silence, the other simply staring at him with a smile still plastered across his lips. His attire is odd, looks like it’s something straight out of a Value Village, scrubby and dirtied and just as worn as the door outside -- it’s the only bit of his appearance that seems to tie him to the odd shop.

“I’m Jaehwan,” the strange man replies breezily and with a few swift steps around the counter he’d come from behind he’s right next to Wonshik, arm looping over his shoulders in a way that seems too brotherly for strangers and makes the other a little uncomfortable. “And welcome to my _humble_ abode. To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Kim?”

“I was sent here for love advice,” he replies, only realizing a moment too late that this strange shop owner apparently knows his surname. A quick glance down at his own person reveals that he isn’t wearing a nametag from work earlier either and he swallows, blaming it on simple coincidence that maybe he just seems familiar -- there are plenty of people with the last name Kim, of course. He clears his throat and shakes away his errant thoughts before continuing, “but it seems like I might have been sent to the wrong place -- this is a showroom of like, mixtures, right?”

“Ah,” Jaehwan smiles, eyes brightening in the slightest bit, narrowing almost slyly, “a friend sent you here, yes?” Wonshik nods without speaking, lips pressing into a thin line. He can’t help but notice the odd accent to the shop owner’s voice, one he doesn’t think he’s heard anywhere -- he can’t place its origin no matter how hard he tries, the lilts and emphasis of his manner of speaking so bizarre he’s unnerved. “I’m afraid you weren’t sent here for advice then, my dear Wonshik. I sell mixtures of every kind, from laxatives to bleaches.” 

An idea strikes Wonshik, sudden and silly but he decides to ask anyways, curiosity winning out over his desire to remain logical. “Do you mean to say that, uh... you don’t happen to have a mixture that would help me with my situation, would you?”

Jaehwan continues as if he hadn’t heard him, plucking a container off the shelf next to him and holding it out for the other to see. “Take this, for example -- clear as water, nearly tasteless, and indistinguishable in any part of the body after consumption -- even in a detailed autopsy with today’s technology! Fascinating, hm? It’s my own personal concoction, actually, I’ll take all the credit and congratulations.”

“I-I don’t need anything like that,” he begins, horrified at what Jaehwan is implying. “I-- is that a poison, sir?”

“Well, if you want to call it that,” shrugs Jaehwan, as if his words are light, floating on the breeze. “It could be deemed a laundry detergent, if you’d like. I’m not sure if it would clean laundry, but I’ve never tried. I myself would rather call it a life cleaner. Lives do need some cleaning occasionally. Do you catch my drift?”

Wonshik is a lot more nervous now, especially noticing that there’s no one but himself and this man in the shop, who holds such unbreaking eye contact it has him quivering where he stands, shaking his head vigorously. Jaehwan only smiles, eyes twinkling in apparent amusement.

“Know how much this costs?” He asks, not even waiting for a response before answering his own question. “For only an eyedropper’s worth, I ask for ten thousand American dollars.”

Wonshik’s curiosity dips and his lips twist into a small frown, “I hope the rest of your things aren’t quite as expensive.”

“Oh dear no,” he says quickly, looking almost affronted as he wanders off again behind shelves, disappearing out of sight. His voice floats over them and Wonshik wanders after him as he speaks, winding through snaking, confusing aisles in hope of finding Jaehwan, in hopes of not getting lost. “For example, I could never sell a love potion at that price. Young people don’t tend to have ten thousand dollars just laying around, and young people are always those who come to ask for my love potions.”

“So you mean to say you _do_ have love potions, then?” Wonshik’s voice rises in excitement, brows raising as the image of Hongbin flits briefly in his mind and his heart skips what feels like three beats. “They-- these mixtures, they aren’t temporary, right? If you used a love potion, it’d last forever?”

Jaehwan scoffs, head shaking as he comes back into view with yet another clear bottle. “Of course not. Permanent, every last one of them. I don’t rely on cheap tactics like that to reel my customers back in. I simply sell them what they want, and eventually they come asking for more.”

The flask is small, about the size of Wonshik’s finger lengthwise and not very far widthwise. Jaehwan notices his immediate hesitance as the liquid is the same color as the “cleaner” from before, and gives it a little shake. The fluid turns a faint pink and upon uncorking the bottle and bringing it to his nose, Wonshik can smell the faintest aroma of roses.

“No longer will your desire ignore you,” he starts, voice echoing around itself and tone lowering as if he’s giving a speech, recorking the bottle and holding it out for Wonshik to take. He receives it into delicate hands, cradling the bottle like a newborn in his palms. “For all the times he’s simply smiled and stared as you’ve told a truly _hilarious_ joke, he’ll laugh to the ends of the earth. His eyes will crinkle with all the mirth in the world and sparkle with just as much love -- for you, and only you -- for the rest of your lives and he will truly value _you_ , more than anyone on the planet.”

“He’ll really love me?” Wonshik’s voice sounds different than usual, like it’s coming from somewhere outside his body that isn’t connected to him. He’s so caught up in the image of Hongbin being his own that although he does notice the details Jaehwan seems to know without ever asking -- Hongbin’s gender, for one -- he can’t bring himself to care enough to let it bother him properly, hands trembling from within his own grasp in anticipation.

“Yes,” he hums, “just a tiny bit in his morning coffee and the next day, all he will want is _you_.”

“Me?”

“Only you. He’ll want to spend all his time around you, won’t want you around pretty girls or handsome boys anymore, for fear you’ll find someone better.”

“He’ll be jealous? Really, of other people who like me?” It isn’t until his cheeks begin to hurt that Wonshik realizes he’s grinning from ear to ear, vision blurring and the images the shopmaker is putting in his head dancing in the front of his eyes.

“He will want to be your _everything_ , dear Wonshik. You will be the biggest interest in his life -- the only one, dare I say it,” grins Jaehwan, mouth stretching from ear to ear, “he will want to know everything you’re doing, will listen to tales of your day with all of his attention devoted to _you_ , and only you. He will not want you to be sad, will always notice the slightest droop to your expression, will fervently glance at the clock in worry if you are so much as a minute late. Even if you slip up a bit, become just a bit unfaithful, fall temporarily into the arms of another -- pay it no mind. His affection will be so strong he’ll forgive you, still want you all the same.”

“I would never cheat,” scoffs Wonshik, heart going a mile a minute. “But -- how much is this mixture, Mr. Jaehwan?”

“Ah,” and now Jaehwan turns, walking back to his place behind the counter and flattening both hands against the top of its surface. “It is not nearly as pricey as what I showed you before, the life-cleaner. Ten thousand dollars and not a cent less, I tell you. Though I think you must be a bit older to need the use of such a thing.”

“The love potion,” reiterates Wonshik, slightly impatient now. His wallet feels awfully light in his pocket, and he swallows thickly at the thought of dipping into rent money for this -- because he knows that he would, if he had to, would do it with less than a second’s hesitation.

“Just one American dollar.” Jaehwan is beaming now, eyes twinkling in delight. “I’ll even give it to you for a deal of an even 1000 won.”

“Really?” He laughs, speechless, immediately fishing into his jeans to take out his wallet. “That’s amazing, Jaehwan, thank you so much for the bargain. And you’re sure it’ll work on my Hongbin?”

“Yes, it will,” he holds his hand out for the coin Wonshik hands over and simply slips it into his back pocket. “I like to oblige easily to their whims so that later in life, my customers come back and perhaps inquire for more.. expensive things.”

“Thank you so much, again,” replies Wonshik, barely listening as he turns the precious bottle over in his palms and backpedals towards the door. Before he leaves he lifts his head and flashes the most grateful smile he can manage, head ducking into a bow, “Goodbye.”

“‘Til next time,” chirps Jaehwan in a correcting, sing-song tone, leaning over the counter with one hand cradling his chin and the other still wrapped around the life cleaner, fingers wiggling in a cheery wave and lips pulled back into a crooked grin that continues even after Wonshik shuts the door behind him.

\---

It’s months later when Wonshik returns, the bags under his eyes making those he passes on the street double take with how starkly they stand out against his pale skin, red rimming his eyes and his hair standing on end to complete his unkempt attire. He trembles from head to toe, checking furtively behind him repeatedly before he darts round the back of the building, up the fire escape, and to that same nondescript door. This time, there’s not a moment of hesitation when he enters, a little of the gold paint left on the doorknob flecking off and sticking to his palm as he steps inside and lets the door swing shut behind him.

The inside of the shop looks exactly the same as it had the last time Wonshik had visited, and he doesn’t even take more than three steps forward before Jaehwan is sliding out from one of the aisles, grin wide and just as disconcerting as it had been months ago. He’s wearing the exact same outfit as he had before.

“Jaehwan,” breathes Wonshik, his voice laced with relief layered atop the clear exhaustion in it. He opens his mouth to speak again but the shopkeeper raises a finger, his smile eerily knowing as he reaches over to run a hand through the other’s hair, smoothing it back. He falls mute immediately at the touch, so frazzled as he is already -- he barely has the energy to properly react.

“You look so exhausted,” comments Jaehwan, and he doesn’t even make an effort to veil the levity in his tone, the corners of his mouth stretched into a wide smile. “Has something been keeping you up, lately? Have you come to purchase a sleeping draught, perhaps?”

“No, I--” Wonshik trips over his words in a hurry to get them out, tongue tied in knots -- he’s a far shot from the composed, confident young man he’d entered as all those months ago, risking a furtive glance behind him to ensure that the heavy door is fully shut, that there are no windows for anyone to be peeking through. His voice is low, as he speaks, “I need something to reverse it. The love potion, you gave me.”

He swallows over the lump that has grown in his throat, eyes darting from the increasingly pleased look on Jaehwan’s face, to the floor, to his feet, to the endless shelves of liquids. “He’s-- Hongbin has changed. He’s not the boy I thought I loved before, he… he’s _obsessed_ with me. I had to slip him a sleeping pill so I could leave the house without him trying to follow me or calling me every few seconds to ask where I am.

“He stays up all night, to make sure I’m not leaving to see anyone else, he deleted all my phone contacts except for his own and told all my friends not to contact me anymore,” and his voice drops near to a whisper, here, barely passable as a murmur, “he never disagrees with anything I say. He’s not even… he’s barely a human anymore, he’s just like an AI that’s built to please me and do what I like and be mine and I _don’t want it_.”

Jaehwan’s grin is so wide that Wonshik can see all of his gums.

“Please, Jaehwan, I need you to fix it,” pleads Wonshik, knees weak beneath him. He briefly considers getting down onto them to beg. “I don’t even care if he has no interest in me anymore, I can’t live like this, and seeing him like this is sickening. He’s not even living.”

“I told you,” says Jaehwan, voice silky smooth and eerily even, “the effects last eternally. You asked me yourself. I could not reverse them no matter even if I tried as hard as I could.”

It feels like his stomach has dropped to his feet. Panic quickly begins to drum fast through his heart and spread through his veins, breath quickening and hands shaking more than they were beforehand. Jaehwan settles a hand on his shoulder and his impossibly-wide smile grows even more, a hand reaching behind him to procure a familiar looking bottle out of nowhere -- its contents are perfectly clear. Wonshik numbs instantly.

“The life cleaner,” he says, voice sounding as if it’s coming from somewhere outside his body.

“This is the only solution I can offer, I’m afraid,” muses Jaehwan, giving the flask a little shake. Unlike Wonshik’s previous purchase, it does not transition to a pink color at the movement, merely remains as transparent as before. “You do remember what its primary purpose is, correct?”

“Laundry?” Wonshik offers, tone almost desperate and breathy as any hope he’d had upon entering the shop spirals away, out of his grasp. Jaehwan’s laugh is high and tinkly and he shakes his head, skirting around to deposit himself behind the counter at the front, setting the bottle down and hitting one of the clunky buttons on the cash register, making it ding off-tune.

“Not at all, I’m regretful to tell you,” he apologizes, but there isn’t a hint of remorse in his voice. “Do you remember the price?”

Wonshik’s throat closes up, and he finds himself unable to speak. He merely nods. Jaehwan’s smile returns.

“Good,” he says, and smooths a form over the top of the counter, setting a pen beside it. Wonshik steps forward, recognizes it as a direct transfer form -- the price is listed on it already, as well as all of his personal information, from his bank account numbers to his address to his workplace. All that’s missing is his signature.

As if he _could_ forget the price, the number emblazoned across the bottom of the page in stark, bold text. Wonshik nods again as if to reassure himself it’ll okay to spend the grand amount of money, fingers outstretching as if to reach for the pen before he pauses, a hair’s breadth away from picking it up. Jaehwan’s smile twitches at the corner.

“Tasteless, you said? He won’t feel a thing?” He swears his voice belongs to someone else, his body is being puppeted by another being. It’s a familiar feeling, in this place, though this time it happens more out of dread than excitement. He can’t feel anything, though. He doesn’t think he wants to. Everything inside of him has gone cold, his mind blank to everything but the form in front of him and the little bottle that sits right behind it, framed by Jaehwan’s fingers.

“Colorless, tasteless, invisible to any medical test a doctor of your time could attempt.” Jaehwan confirms in a chirpy, matter-of-fact voice, fingertips tapping impatiently at the wood of the counter. No sooner had he finished the last syllable than Wonshik was lifting the pen.

“This doesn’t leave this room, right?” He’s asking as he’s leaving, tongue heavy in his mouth and grip so tight on the doorknob his knuckles are white. His thoughts are in disarray, jumping from images of Hongbin (none pleasant, anymore) to his bank account (empty, no doubt) to Jaehwan, where his eyes remain (as smiley as ever).

“Of course not,” says Jaehwan, though there’s a little knowing quirk to his expression, a slant. “But to ensure that doesn’t happen, considering I have all of your information at hand and things can be misplaced… if someone’s ever to ask you for relationship advice, give them my address, would you? I’ll know, if you don’t.” There’s something in his voice that makes Wonshik believe him.

He nods, wrenching the door open and stepping outside to march the cold walk home where Hongbin awaits, the flask wound tight in one of his hands and tucked beneath his jacket. 

The door swings shut behind him of its own natural accord, but not before he hears Jaehwan’s soft, amused chuckle, reverberating enough to sound as if it’s right beside his ear. It bounces around in his eardrums the entire way back, mocking him, and he weeps.

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off a short story i read in like grade nine of the same title and instead of working on the bajillion gta au wips i have i finished off this fic i started like 3 years ago! so enjoy. 
> 
> (sry if theres a style change midway thru, thats where i gave up in 2014 and then picked it back up this year)


End file.
